


Table 4 2

by midnightcas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Bad Flirting, Banter, Bartender Derek, College Student Stiles, Derek Hale Saves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Has Issues, Derek is a Softie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil Theo Raeken, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt Stiles, Idiots in Love, Jealous Derek, M/M, Molestation, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Non-Consensual Touching, Oblivious Stiles, POV Stiles, Past Rape/Non-con, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Protective Scott, Puppy Scott McCall, Sexual Assault, Sexual Tension, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 18:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightcas/pseuds/midnightcas
Summary: Scott asks Stiles for a favor. One that involves him entertaining his boss on a double date with he and Allison. But then things go south, because things always go south...way south....“You were encouraging me to do it two minutes ago and now...”“And now what?”“And now you’re just being a dick!”





	Table 4 2

**Author's Note:**

> So...I just started watching Cheers and well, wouldn't you know it, inspiration hit. So this is based very loosely on Season 1 Episode 7. And depending on how much I like the show and the reaction this gets, I may make this into a kind of series where I pull different ideas from the show and Sterek-fuse it. Because that's just my whole life. It's a big ball of college stress and Sterek.
> 
> Any who....PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IN THE END NOTES AND THE PRE SPOILER TAGS. 
> 
> And, I hope you enjoy 
> 
> xoxo

It had to have been...what, four months, now? Maybe a little more, since Stiles had started working at the Glass Moon.

It began on a whim. He had stumbled his way into the bar after a harsh day of his seemingly endless Master’s Classes and an equally harsh break up with his boyfriend, Matt.

He had been a fool. The guy was a PhD student, in charge of the lab Stiles had worked his ass to get into and he had promised Stiles the world. Enough so that he had brought him to meet his father over their last Spring Break. He had thought it was going great...showed how smart he was. The guy had been cheating on him since day one. And it took his Social Psych Professor to point it out to him. It had been...kind of mortifying. So after running out of all his cheap alcohol stashed in his small one bedroom, he had made his way to the nearest bar and....and he had gotten lost, incredibly so. But now, he supposes, that maybe a little bit of fate had been at play. Because he had ended up on one of Glass Moon’s red barstools gaping openly at the cutest blonde angel faced bartender to ever live....ever (he’d later learn him to be Isaac). And then his world kind of turned upside down and sideways when Derek _Hale_ entered his life. He had been simultaneously miserable and sober enough that Derek had offered him a job after running him through an impromptu interview and a verbal resume.

His Dad may or may not have had a parental aneurism when he told him that he got a job at a bar, but at the end of the day he was making money, actually _meeting_ people around his school and, as a bonus, he got to ogle the ridiculously hot bartender/owner almost every single night. Stiles had probably no complaints. He had, after all, met his new best friend Scott there not three days after he started. They were inseparable. Scott was the best bro a guy could ask for and Stiles thanks Matt almost everyday for being such a complete and utter dick (spiritually, of course).

  
  
  
So there he was, like almost every Thursday night. Running drinks and bar food around the floor. Derek had promised that after six months, if he showed promise, he would teach him how to bartend. So he was kind of nearly there. He was on the way back to the kitchen with an empty tray when Scott grabbed his arm at the bar. He jerked to a stop, the rest of his body flailing a few more paces forward.

“You need to save me. I’m going to _die_.”

Stiles’ skeptical eyes met Derek’s, who was drying off a set of glasses. The man shrugged, leaning in to hear the conversation.

“What?”

“So...you know my boss, right?”

“Yeah that dic--” he caught himself midword, flickering his gaze to Derek who had implemented a no swearing, cuss words or slurs of any kind rule the moment Stiles had dropped the F-Bomb right in front of an unsuspecting elderly couple who Isaac swore was about to faint. It was...fair, “--tator, right.”  
“I told you,” Scott sighed, nursing his beer, “he’s a lot better now. He even gave me a raise.”

“That’s nice, Scotty. Still a dick.”  
  
Derek sighed in defeat and wiped his hands on his bar towel tucked in his apron.

“Well anyway,” Scott continued, “I suggested we go out for dinner. To smooth things over. Like a double date kind of thing. But he said he didn’t have anyone to bring out, so I kind of told him I would set him up with someone and...”  
  
“You forgot,” Derek speculated.

“No! No. I didn’t _forget_ . I asked Malia to come.”  
  
“My cousin?”

Stiles flinched. Because Malia Tate was....she was a fucking _monsoon_. Stiles had spent many nights in her apartment learning that exact thing. It was nothing more than heedy dirty sex, something to quite literally take the edge off, but damn. It had all kind of came to a stop when it was uncovered that she was Derek’s little cousin because....argh. It was just too weird after that. But occasionally...Stiles shook his head, clearing the memories. Admittedly, it was a good idea on Scott’s part. Sweep his dickbox of a boss off his feet with one night. So maybe Scott wasn’t quite as innocent as everyone gave him credit for. Either way, Stiles had never held that reservation because Allison had a rather...mysterious gleam in her eyes that made Stiles think that she was a kinky motherfuck.

“Yeah, but she bailed and...well I was thinking...” his eyes landed on Stiles, pleadingly.

And woah-ho-ho. No.

“No, no.”

Derek barked out a laugh,  not bothering to cover it, despite Stiles throwing him a look of betrayal.  
  
“Come on, please. If this doesn’t fall through I think he might _actually_ fire me.”

“Scotty. As much as I love you, I am _not_ playing the part of a cheap ass whore to your gross dick of a boss.”

“You don’t have to _do_ anything. Just...sit with us and talk. You don’t have to sleep with him for Christ’s Sake.”

“But my reputation. If I’m seen with some old geezer...”  
  
“Your reputation? My _job_.”

“Scott...”  
  
“Please,” his looked up, chocolate eyes gleaming, “just...think it over?”

Before he could answer, his best friend was out of his seat, racing over to greet Allison with a kiss on the cheek and a small squeeze.

“Come on,” Derek chided, leaning forward on an elbow, “Why is this such a big deal?”  
  
Stiles scoffed, “I’m not in the business of _entertainment_.”

“You work in a bar, Stiles.”  
  
“I work in _your_ bar.” He sighed after a moment, “I don’t know.”  
  
“It’s just a few hours. All you have to do is talk to him. It’ll just be like you hanging out with Scott and Allison and one of their friends,” he shrugged, “it can’t be too horrible.”  
  
“But even if I do it, what if he doesn’t like me and Scott gets fired?”  
  
“Stiles,” Derek shook his head, “he’ll like you. Even if you’re a little...you know. But he will.”  
  
He scoffed, “How would you know?”

An unreadable expression crossed Derek’s face, then, “Trust me.”

Stiles sighed again and turned to look at Scott, assumingly explaining the predicament to Allison with wild hand gestures and defeated body language.

“You’re enjoying this,” Stiles speculated, turning back towards Derek with squinted eyes.

“Sure am. How often do I get to see one Stiles Stilinski on a date?”  
  
“The guy has to be like...seventy.”  
  
“Maybe seventy one.”  
  
Stiles chuckled, allowing an easy smile, “I don’t know,” he murmured again.

He looked at Derek’s profile then, as the man started mixing an order of drinks Isaac had placed in front of him. Sometimes, in moments like this, Derek was so beautiful that it physically hurt. And Stiles was pretty sure the man didn’t even know it. When he met Derek’s eyes again, he was looking at Stiles, seemingly under the same scrutiny that Stiles had been holding him at not a moment before. He suddenly felt self conscious.

“It’s an old man. What’s the harm? He’ll probably just stare at you and tell him about his good ol’ days. Beside, Scott’s a friend.”  
  
“But--”

“Sir!”

Scott’s voice cut them off, causing them both to turn towards the door. He stood there, shaking hands with a man, Allison’s arm in his. When Scott finally moved a bit, Stiles was facing a very _young_ very _attractive_ man, no older than thirty. He had a gorgeous face that _looked_ like trouble....well, the exact kind of trouble that Stiles was into, anyway. He had hazel eyes and brown hair and before Stiles could even formulate a sentence, he took a step their way.

“Stiles?” he heard Derek call.

“Well, I guess you’re right. It can’t hurt. And Scott _is_ a friend.”  
  
“But--”  
  
Derek’s pleas were lost in the crowd as Stiles approached them. When Scott turned to see him, his face broke into such relief that it was comical, while Allison only smirked knowingly.

“Mr. Raeken, this is Stiles. Stiles, this is my boss, Mr. Raeken.”

The man--Theo--looked up and down Stiles with such concentration, such intensity, that Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from outwardly shivering. He took Stiles’ hand in a big warm one and shook it once.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Stiles.”

His grin showed his perfectly white teeth and Stiles’ heart fluttered.

“Likewise, Mr. Raeken.”

“Theo,” he chuckled, “please.”

Erica walked over from behind the hostess desk and winked at Stiles, having, undoubtedly, the exact train of thought that Stiles was.

“For four?”

“Actually,” Theo spoke, “would you mind getting us two tables for two?”

Shock crossed everyone’s face, especially Scott’s who darted his eyes to Stiles’. He could tell that his best friend was about to protest, and Stiles appreciated it with all his heart, but he also appreciated Theo....all of Theo.

“But--”  
  
“It’s alright, Scott.”  
  
“But...”  
  
“Really.”  
  
“It could give us a bit of time to get to know each other,” Theo offered, “then maybe next time it could be a proper double date. What do _you_ think, Stiles?”

“S-sounds good to me.”

Erica gave him a wicked grin before throwing her gaze at the bar. After a moment her grin got impossibly larger as she grabbed two menus.

“Right this way.”

  
  
  
Theo was...magnificent. He was funny, he was smart, he was hot like fire. He listened to Stiles carefully, not rolling his eyes or sighing in boredom. He made Stiles feel heard and cherished. They talked for awhile, getting acquainted before Erica came over to take their drink orders. They were in the middle of talking about Scott and how great he was (the greatest of all plugs, Stiles a la Stilinski) when she came back over with them. Theo was explaining something about his job, what Stiles didn’t know, as he was too busy studying the man’s lips, when he took a sip of his drink. He made a face and then took another just to make sure.

“Is something wrong with your drink?”

“It’s just...yeah. Just a bit watered down.”

Theo made to stand, “I’ll get you another.”

Stiles smiled at the action, but placed a hand on his forearm, “That’s alright. I know the bartender. I’ll be right back.”

Theo smiled back at him and nodded, “Hurry.”

A blush took over Stiles’ features as he did exactly that, snatching his glass from the table and shuffling up behind the bar.

“Stiles,” Derek greeted evenly.

“What is wrong with you?”

His eyebrows wiggled, as if he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“My drink is eight parts water and one part nothing,” he snapped.

“Relax,” Derek put a heavy hand on his shoulder, “I know you’re a light drinker and I didn’t want to make it too hard so that you’d do something you’d regret.”

Stiles sputtered, “Anything I’d regret? I don’t see how that’s really any of your concern.”  
  
“You’re my employee. Of course it’s my concern.”  
  
“Not right now, I’m not. I’m a patron.”  
  
“You’re on the clock,” he growled back, glaring.

“You were the one who was pushing me to do this in the first place!”

“I’m just trying to _protect_ you,” Derek growled back.

“From myself?”

“From _him_!”

“Theo is a fucking gentlemen. And I don’t need protection!”

“Theo,” Derek scoffed at the use of his name.

“You were fucking encouraging me two minutes ago and now...”  
  
“Now?”  
  
“Now you’re just being a dick!”

“He’s bad news, Stiles,” Derek snarled, voice now low and meaningful, making Stiles’ stomach knot, because he may be on a fucking date right now with an amazing guy, but Derek was still...Derek. And Stiles was still Stiles and he didn’t think that he’d ever not have these.... _things_ for Derek.

“No,” Stiles whispered, gaining volume, “You don’t get to do that.” He shook his head, “I’m paying for a proper drink, Derek. And I expect it. And I didn’t order water.”  
He slammed downed his glass and made his way back towards the table.

“Is everything alright?”

Stiles shook off his anger and forced a smile, “Yeah. Of course. Sorry. Where were we?”

They talked for a few more hours over a meal and drinks before Theo asked if there was any places for them to go to have a quieter environment. Normally, Stiles would suggest they go back to one of their places, but he wasn’t quite ready to ditch Scott and Allison, the other half of their party. Yet.

“There’s ah...a few pool tables in the back room. It’s never usually crowded at this hour. I’ve never played before, though.”  
A grin stretched over the man’s face as he reached out to brush a pieces of hair behind Stiles’ ear, Oh don’t worry about that. I can teach you.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth a fist was slamming down onto their table. They both jumped and turned to see Derek.

“Your check,” he grumbled, eyes boring into a smiling Theo, all while refusing to look at Stiles.

“Thank you. But I think me and Stiles here are going to have a few more drinks. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Stiles blushed at the petname, shocked at it’s use more than anything.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice cut through.

“I, uh...yeah. A few more.”

“Fine.”

“Huh,” Theo smiled as they watched him stalk away, back behind the bar, taking the check with him, “he’s interesting. So...show me to that room?”  
  
  
  
  
Theo broke and continued to hit a few balls into the pockets, while Stiles watched on with amusement. When it was his turn, he nearly sent the pool stick flying. Theo chuckled, not unkindly, before offering to show him how to hold the cue. The room was empty, except for the two of them, so Stiles enthusiastically agreed.

In a minute, Theo was behind him, feet on either side of his, chest pressed into Stiles’ back and arms securely wrapped around his.

“So, if you lift your finger like this, no, like this, there you go, you have a base,” he whispered behind Stiles’ ear. This time, the boy didn’t even attempt to hide the shiver that ran through him.

“O-okay.”

The little whispers got closer before his lips were trailing down Stiles’ jaw and to his neck. He resisted a bit, rolling his shoulders back, and stepping away, but Theo wasn’t having it. He pressed Stiles’ hips up against the table, his own flush against Stiles’ ass, leaving nothing to the imagination.  
  
“Th-Theo, stop.”

“Come on, Stiles. So pretty,” he whispered, disposing of the cue somewhere and pushing Stiles so his hands landed on the pool table, Theo’s hand snaking up the front of his shirt.

“Stop,” he tried to pull away, but Theo’s hips kept him immobile, “So pretty for me, Stiles. You’ll be good. Won’t you? Just for me. Wrap those pretty lips around my cock, Mm,” he sighed as he rolled his hips, dick hard against Stiles’ back, “and you’ll swallow, won’t you? Of course you will. You’re such a whore for this, I know it. I’ll have you screaming, Stiles. You know I will.”  
  
“S-stop,” he whimpered, gasping in panic when Theo’s hand dove into his pants and he grabbed him.

Stiles thrashed, trying to turn to shove him away, trying to step on the inside of his foot or throw his head back to get to his nose. Trying to remember _anything_ from the self defense class his father had made him take when he was thirteen. But he was panicking.

And that’s when the door swung open. He was almost more embarrassed to be found that way, vulnerable and “weak”, than grateful.

“Get off of me,” Stiles shouted, hoping that it would make it crystal clear that this was anything but consensual.

And sure enough he felt the arms that reached around Theo to pull him away as he was simultaneously thrown into the wall and on the floor. He watched in horror as Scott hauled off and punched the other man straight in the jaw, sending him flying back into the rack of cues and other pool accessories, causing them to clang to the ground around him. The crash was loud. Loud enough that Stiles flinched and the door swung open yet again.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

And fuck, it was Derek. Could tonight get any worse? There he was, curled up on the ground with Scott and his boss exchanging blows because of _him_ and Derek fucking Hale witness to this clusterfuck he had caused. Great.

“McCall. _McCall_! Get off of me. McCall.” No matter what Theo yelled and pleaded Scott refused to let go until the declaration of, “You’re fired!” was thrown into it.

The room silenced as Theo finally broke away, looking angrily between Scott and Stiles, fixing his suit and adjusting his tie.

“Come by the office tomorrow to pick up your stuff,” he aimed at Scott before turning towards Stiles, “And you...you fucking tease. No wonder McCall tried to pawn you off to me you fucking--”

“You might want to think very carefully about what you’re about to say,” Derek barked, stepping in front of Stiles and blocking him from Theo’s view.

The man scoffed as he pulled at his collar once again, rolling his eyes.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” he said instead of continuing.

“I count on it. Scott,” Derek growled, “get him out of my bar.”

After several long moments of heavy breathing Derek turned towards him. Stiles knew he must have looked pathetic, all teary eyed and panicked. He’s a man for crying out loud. Men don’t _get_ molested. They aren’t sexually assaulted. They...fuck. And of course he knew that was a lie. Of course it was a lie. But right now, it was the shame that was burning through him that hurt the most. And he didn’t understand _why_.

He refused to meet Derek’s eyes as he pushed himself up to stand. He knew what he would face, pitying eyes, green eyes that were _sorry_ for him that he wasn’t strong enough to hold his own or to be the one to stand up to Theo by himself or...

He kept his eyes down. Because the last thing he needed was that pity. He grabbed hold of his opposite arm.

“You can say it,” Stiles mumbled into the silence.  
  
“W-what?” He almost sounded shocked.

“That you told me so? You can say it.”

“Stiles--”  
  
The tone of his voice made Stiles finally look up. But instead of pity the only thing he could see was anger.

“Oh god.”  
  
Derek seemed to sense himself and pulled back, “No, no. Stiles,” he cried, wading forward and wrapping his fingers around his biceps, “Stiles look at me. I’m not angry at you,” he pleaded, “look at me. Please. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you, Stiles. I’m mad at him. That he touched you. That he did that. I’m mad at him. Please.”

He dragged his eyes up again, but this time...this time, instead of pity, he was faced with overwhelming concern and...and maybe something else.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, more for himself than Derek, “I’m okay.”

Derek allowed a small smile before he pulled Stiles into his chest, “Yes. You’re okay.”

Once Stiles seemed to settle a bit, Derek pulled back and studied his face.

“Better?”  
  
He nodded.

“Good. He won’t be allowed in a 50 miles radius of this place ever again.”  
  
“Can you even do that? Get a restraining order for a place of business?”  
  
“I can and I will.”

Stiles let out a small laugh of disbelief, but he nearly felt all the tension roll off of Derek’s back at it.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

They stopped to grab Derek’s jacket that was immediately draped over Stiles’ shoulder--such a prince, he was. Stiles was still too sick to his stomach to get the butterflies he would have undoubtedly gotten if this had happened any other night. He followed broad shoulders out into the bar, ignoring all the curious glances he was getting from patrons and fellow employees alike. They would, undoubtedly, hear all about it by tomorrow, if not by the end of the night.

“Isaac,” Derek called over the music and noise, resting an easy hand on the small of Stiles’ back, “Close up, for me.”  
  
“You got it, Boss,” he affirmed, mixing something in the cocktail shaker.

   
  
  
By the time the cab pulled up to Derek’s apartment it was late. There had been traffic down each and every turn and streetway.

“Stay over?” Derek asked.

He hadn’t needed to ask again. By the second month of his employment he had lost count of the amount of times he had crashed at his other employees’ places and how many times they had crashed at his. So this was...in a way, normal. But he felt that this time...in a way, this time was different.

He followed Derek up the flight of stairs and down the hall to his apartment.

“I’ll get you some clothes to change into.”

Once they both were changed in looser, more comfortable clothing, they met in the kitchen.

“Here, have a glass of water, then we can head to bed.”

“Alright.”

It had been the first word he had spoken since they had left the bar, and for some reason that didn’t seem to escape Derek. The man, seemingly forgetting the water, took two large strides and took Stiles into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Stiles shook his head, bringing his own arms up to grip the fabric of Derek’s faded blue tshirt. He allowed his head to rest of Derek’s chest and for the man to rub his large hands up and down Stiles’ back, soothing him.

Soon enough they find themselves in Derek’s bed, facing each other, Derek still rubbing Stiles’ back in attempt of reassurance.

“Are you alright?”

Stiles nodded, “Yeah. Just...I feel...”  
  
“Dirty.”

Stiles’ shocked gaze snapped to Derek’s, “Y-yeah.”

“You’re not,” he whispered, “But you do smell.”

Stiles let out a surprised laugh, starling both of them.

“I probably could use a shower.”  
  
“Tomorrow,” Derek mused, closing his eyes.

“Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it. As I said before, I might add a few prequels and sequels and such, but let me know.
> 
> WARNINGS: Theo sexually assaults Stiles and touches him even when Stiles makes it clear repeatedly that he does not want him to.
> 
> See you, hopefully, in the comments xoxo


End file.
